"Progression in stages" (Mature rating) House/Queen of Swords/Highlander crossover
Title: Progression in stages.
Author: Keenir
Pairing(s): none.
Character(s):
.- on House - House, 13, 23, Taub, Kutner
.- on Highlander - Kronos, Cassandra, Methos
.- on Queen of Swords - Luis Montoya, Grisham, La Reina
Rating: Mature
Disclaimer: I own none of the characters in this fic.
Summary: 23 gets the patient of her dreams…but it turns out he’s not really Methos as she’d thought he was. Will the other doctors discover Immortality when he’s their patient?
Challenge: http://www.allposters.com/-sp/A-Statue-of-Akhenaten-Lost-in-Shadow-Posters_i1008087_.htm spurred this.
(and so did a long-ago comment asking why Luis didn’t have a scar)
Author's notes: Yes, Froelich’s Syndrome really exists - it’s one of the things that some think afflicted the Pharaoh Akhenaten.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
PROLOGUE:
Some stories contain an element of myth. Others seem so unbelievable that the audience refuses to think it could be anything but myth. This is the latter. I know of it’s accuracy and truth because I was there, involved.
This is the tale of my mistake.
I had thought - believed, hoped - that I had found Methos. I’d thought him to be Methos.
You need understand, I was not the first in my family to search for the Oldest Immortal. Know that it was my family who had unearthed the fact that Methos had ever existed. Comprehend that I had pressure from my family and two groups of colleagues.
I made a mistake.
He wasn’t Methos.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
TWO CHRISTMASES AGO:
“Thank you, Gran, I love it!” said the woman who would later be known to Dr House as Candidate 23. The weight of the tome rested heavy on her thighs, but it felt good - a hard-won prize. It may be a Christmas present, but Gran’s gifts were never casual; always there was purpose and deliberateness.
“I’d hoped so,” Gran said, blanket across her lap. This meant as much to her as the book did to 23: 23’d made this herself, bit by bit, every time she had a spare minute amidst all her studies. So good of my friends to bend the rules and approve my giving this to her.
“Its exactly what I’ll do my dissertation on,” 23 vowed. I’m gonna earn every star on the tattoo, and you’ll be so proud. -er. Prouder.
Not everyone who is inducted into the Watchers is brought in because they’d witnessed an Immortal coming back to life. Most were carrying on a family tradition. 23 and her Gran were part of the latter - going back seven generations to Nathaniel Eakes, who had brought his daughter into the Watchers. Eakes himself had been recruited because of his discovery and translation of the Ninevah Texts.
“I know.” The book ‘Starting in Ninevah,’ the reason her own Granma, Patricia Eakes, had started the Watchers’ ongoing and current search for Methos, the focal Immortal of the tome.
. - - - - - - - - - - - .
PRESENT DAY:
“Tell me,” House said to Foreman and the candidate Ducklings, “what’s the differential for a twenty-two-year-old Chinese woman with respiratory distress?”
“She’s got Marfan’s,” 13 said. “Nothing more than shortness of breath brought on by emotional stress.”
“Figures you’d notice the Marfan’s - you don’t want me retaining any air of omniscience when I point it out in reply to a guess.” Looking over the group, “Foreman!”
“Now what?”
“Do you and Cuddy give lessons?”
“Every Tuesday.”
“Never hurts to be prepared,” 23 said. “Besides, 13’s right.”
House gave them a look.
Nobody said or did anything.
“Are the two of you sleeping together?” House asked.
“No!” 23 answered.
“Sorry, didn’t know it was a threesome. So who’s the lucky guy? Foreman?” In response to Foreman’s stony silence, “Oooh, I must be close.”
“I said,” 23 said, “that I agree with her. That’s it.”
“Unless,” 13 said, “your own sex life’s so impaired, Dr House, that you’re left no alternative but mindless speculation about what your underlings get up to.”
“Hey!” holding up his cane. “See this? I’m the cripple here.”
“You think with your leg?”
“Its an improvement,” 23 said, “I suppose.”
“If you three children don’t mind,” Taub said, “we’ve still got two patients.”
House nodded. “Agreed. You and Heartless Bitch, go treat the dad. I’ll go check out the cool patient myself; Kutner can come too, so long as he brings his date.”
“Which one of us?” 13 asked.
House blinked. “Kutner’s the guy in your threesome?”
“Which one of us did you mean by ‘heartless bitch’?”
“Kinda thought it was obvious.”
“Normally, yeah. But not after we both had comebacks to your quips.”
“Ah. I see. Then in that case, 23, you go with Kutner, and you can help Taub with the boring guy.”
“What makes him boring?” Taub asked.
“Wrong question.”
“What if we can prove he’s not boring?” Kutner asked.
“If you can do that, you’re safe. Same for everyone.”
“Just don’t skimp on your patient,” Foreman said, “just to test a theory on him.”
“Yes. Exactly,” House said. “That.”
Once the canidates had all left the room, “I’ll admit I’ve never seen them move so fast.” Aside from during medical emergencies, of course.
“Then,” House replied, “you missed the cafeteria’s Free Ice Cream Day.”
“They’re not children.”
“How do you figure that?”
“If they were,” Foreman pointed out, “they’d steal your cane, flush your pills, kick you in the shins, and run away.”
“Okay, so Wilson’s safe.”
Sighing, Foreman stood up to leave. “I’ll go help them with ‘boring guy.’”
. - - - - - - - - - - - .
“Don’t misunderstand me,” the young patient said to 23, Kutner, and House, “I do appreciate what you’re doing for me.”
“But?” 23 asked.
“But you should be treating my dad, not me.”
“But you’re more interesting,” House said.
She glared at him. “I have Marfans Syndrome, yes. Take a picture, it’ll -”
“Be the last thing I do?”
“No.”
“Last longer?”
“Possibly.”
“Miss Montoya -”
“Are you Doctor House?”
“I deny everything. Unless you’ve heard of my passionate first dates.”
She cracked a smile. “I’ve heard of you.”
“I deny everything. Except for what I do on second dates.”
Ignoring that, “I’ve been told to never let Dr House take my pulse.”
“Why’s that?” Kutner asked, while doing exactly that.
“Because he wouldn’t return it. That’s what I do for a living - or what I’ll do once I complete my postgrad studies.”
“You’re a comedian?” House asked.
“A lexographer.”
“You,” Kutner said, “study words.”
The young Montoya nodded to him. “So nice to meet someone who already knows what it means.”
“Oh get a room,” House muttered.
“I have a room.”
“She’s got a point,” 23 said to House.
“Don’t you start too,” House said.
“How is my father?” Catherine Montoya asked.
“Why?” House asked. “What do you think is wrong with him?”
“Aside from a mild case of multiple personality syndrome that’s been getting worse since my mom died, he’s perfectly healthy.”
“Except you don’t really believe that.”
“She doesn’t?” Kutner asked.
“I do, actually,” Catherine said.
“Then why’d you bring him to the hospital? To make the sick people feel guilty? Hmm, come to think of it, that’s a great idea.”
“I brought him here because he collapsed.”
“Just some concern for a parent,” 23 said to House. “That’s not so strange.”
“I’ll introduce you to my dad.” To Catherine, “Is that it? Just concern?”
“I’m no fan of that tone, doctor,” she warned.
“Tone aside. Hell, I’ll say it plain - why’s your dear old dad look like he’d be your older brother?”
“Because he’s my stepfather.” After making a frustrated sound, “I’m supposed to entrust my and his lives to you, when you can’t even…” balling her fists, and her facial features looking harsh.
“Should’ve let me take your pulse: that would’ve helped. Come along, children.”
“Sorry,” Kutner whispered to her as he followed House out; 23 looked sympathetic.
. - - - - - - - - - - - - .
8 HOURS LATER:
Catherine was waking up, squeezing her eyelids shut before opening them. Sitting there at her bedside was Dr Kutner. “Drew the short straw, did you?”
“I volunteered to stay here and wait so you’d know…”
“Know?” Ex-cuse me?? A large dose of presumption, it seems.
“That your results came back fine,” Kutner said.
“Good.” In that case, “Thank you,” since I was wrong. “And my father?”
“Your father’s name is Rafael, isn’t it?”
“It is. He also answers to Luis.”
“One of his other personalities?”
A man who’s been around more than my dad has, at least… at least since mom’s death.
Kutner’s beeper went off. “Sorry,” he apologized. The beeping was in stereo - he turned around and saw 23 at the door.
“Vamanos,” Catherine said.
Kutner nodded. As he joined 23 in heading for their shared goal - Luis Montoya’s room - he asked her what she was doing when their beepers’d gone off.
“I was about to come in,” 23 said honestly. But I stopped when I heard what she said. Her dad might just be an Immortal. 23’s eyes went wide and her lips pressed together as she picked up the already hurried pace. We really don’t need a quickening in the hospital, hoping it was something else.
When they arrived, they found House and the other canidates keeping an eye on the patient - who was presently brandishing House’s cane at them like a sword, 23 noted with professional interest. “What seems to be the problem?” she couldn’t help but ask.
“13 just lost points,” House said, leaning on the walls, not taking his eyes off Montoya. “Stabilize his white cells, my -”
“Mi Corazon? Where,” Montoya demanded (not shouted), “is she?”
“Fish and Game came by to pick her up. Now gimme back my cane, or the birdie goes bye-bye.”
“Uh, House?” Kutner said.
“Relax,” House told Kutner, “I doubt he’s got a permit for hawk-owning anyway.”
“I do not own her, senor,” Montoya said.
“You did say, and I quote, ‘my hawk’.”
Lowering the cane slightly, “Then you have never been married.” More the fool, him. Ignorant of so simple a nickname that even Grisham could grasp.
“Do you know where you are?” 23 asked.
“This is not the garrison, woman! I am in a hospital.”
“Just asking.”
“I am not senile, senorita,” Luis answered. “I was merely disoriented, and that was only for a moment.”
Taub groaned where he still lay, struck down by the then-disoriented patient.
“That’s good to hear,” 13 said to Montoya. “Now if you can just lie down again, we can -”
“Run more tests?” Montoya asked, thankful Melvin had by now dissolved into fragments of nothing but half-remembered memories; all images without personality lingering in them. Had Melvin still been around, the prospect of any tests, any at all, would’ve been enough to get him killing everyone in the room. “I am civilized,” Luis said to himself, feeling someone waking up from a long silence.
“No doubt you are,” House said. “Then again, aren’t all the bad guys?”
Montoya glared at him while asking 13, “Exactly what manner of test did you have in mind, provided I agree to further needles and leeches?”
“You’re complaining?” Taub asked, 23 and Kutner helping him up.
“Only asking, senor.” And Montoya asked a question that put a startled expressioin on Taub’s face.
“I’ll think about it,” was all Taub said.
“Gracias,” Montoya said, sliding back into bed and not objecting as 13 hooked him back up to the monitoring machines.
As she was doing that, Luis went limp and the readouts on all the machines flatlined, House’s cane clattering to the floor from limp fingers.
Everyone sprang into action; even Taub.
. - - - - - - - - .
As the lot of them - House and canidates - walked through the corridors back to House’s office and the whiteboard, 23 kept hearing what she’d said to the patient once they’d gotten him stabilized: ‘You nearly died on us.’ He’d looked her dead in the eyes, and they both knew she was lying… and she suspected that he now knew that she knew.
“He had no white blood cells,” 13 reminded House. “You yourself agreed with my recommended treatment.”
“Talk to Dr Allison Cameron. Foreman can introduce you.” Turning his attention to Taub, “Speaking of speaking, what’d he say to you that nearly killed him?”
“He asked,” Taub said, “for me to pardon him for his strike.”
“In Hebrew?” House asked on a hunch.
“Yes. Though his accent was…”
“Cultured? Crude? Yokel?”
“Odd.”
“Not an English accent, then?”
“Not remotely,” Taub said.
“He was in China,” Kutner said, “before moving here two years ago with his family.”
“Not Chinese either. I’ve heard that accent at synagogue. This guy didn’t have it.”
“Spanish?” 23 suggested.
“Close to it, yeah. Yet off in a way he couldn’t pin down.
“In any tongue,” House said, “all your heads’re back on the chopping block.”
“I thought you said I was safe,” Taub objected. “You said -”
“I said if anyone could prove the patient’s not boring, you’re safe. But after you had him go from Breath to Death, no dice.”
“Cute,” Taub said. “You come up with that all on your own?” Golem puns, how original.
“Yup.”
“Whoever tried to kill him,” 23 said, “he’s not dead now.”
“Which’ll be,” Kutner said, “good news for his daughter.”
“Ah yes,” House recalled, “the cheerful Buttercup. How is the ol’ gal?”
“She’s glad,” 23 said, “that you seem to’ve forgotten her.”
“Then I should think a return checkup’s just what the doctor ordered.”
“Trade you.”
House looked at her askance. “I’m your boss. I hold in my hands whether or not you ever work again.”
“That didn’t sound like a no,” 13 said cautiously.
“True. Very well, young lady,” he said to 23, “trade places with Taub. Do or don’t, I’m still going to have a chat with the stepdaughter,” and ambled off.
“Great,” Taub said.
“Problem?” 23 asked.
“Nope, no problem. Just wondering if you’re up to handling him.”
“He takes a swing at me, I’ll duck and knock his legs out from under him.”
“And if the patient tries anything?”
Rather than say ‘I thought that that’s who you were referring to,’ 23 said, “I said legs, didn’t I?”
. - - - - - - - - - - .
= In The Mind Of Montoya =
A sharply-scented breeze blew in through the Commandancia in prelude to the shouts of “it’s the Queen!” and their attendant rifle-firings. The afternoon sun played upon the drapes as Luis Montoya sat at his desk, reading over a contract which had been left for him.
“I, Luis R. Montoya,” he read, “being of sound mind… do grant the use of my body to Kronos, who may -” the sound of a ripe melon splatting on the wall just outside his window interrupted. Either La Reina’s aim is improving, or my soldiers’ tactics are growing more dismal. Even so, this was his time. Here was his comfort zone.
“Then sign,” Kronos said, disembodied voice just opposite his place at the desk. “Make it official, Official.”
“No,” Luis replied.
Though he was only a voice here, one could tell Kronos was looking around. “Courting, marrying; those are mistake enough. Yet you compounded your mistake - when you went soft, when you took orders, when you did nothing to quash the stirrings of unrest and revolt.”
Luis’ face was impassive. “Omniscience is a part of neither of our repitiours,” he reminded Kronos. “You yourself suffered setbacks.”
“True,” the older personality conceded. “But your weakness -”
“You exposed vulnerable bits to more than just Cassandra.”
“I suffered no revolts.”
He laughed. “You ruled over nothing! Besides, I was otherwise engaged.”
“Yes. With Lucy. She was the finest,” he conceded.
“On that, we can agree.”
“Though I wonder,” Kronos said, “if you truly found her as satisfying as our Brother found Cassandra - after all, she is not anywhere in this recreation of yours.”
“That,” Luis said, “is because my memories of her are satisfying enough that I need not -” pausing as a volley of musketshot went to and inevitably missed the target, “have a simalcrum of her here.”
He could sense a nod conceding the point. “And your betrayal? What of that?”
“Grisham’s actions were not a surprise.”
“Not his, nor Vera’s change of loyalties.”
“Then whom? Methos’?”
Kronos ignored the familiar jab. “The youth you call ‘child’ and ‘my daughter.’ Who did you think had you brought to a hospital?”
“She was concerned,” Luis said, the words ringing hollow - even the persona Rafael Montoya would have been certain to instruct Lucinda and little Catherine not to entrust him to doctors.
“And now what?” Kronos asked. He would have been amused, even entertained, had it been anyone else in this strait; but Montoya was a part of him literally.
“I shall -” and folded, face an inch from his desktop. “Dios mio,” Luis groaned. “What -?”
“I thought you’d never ask,” Kronos said, taking control.
“Oh no, non you do not...” fighting to retain motor control.
. - - - - - - - - - - .
A while later…
“It’s Froelich’s Syndrome,” 13 said.
“No,” Taub said, “it’s not.”
“Froelich’s causes sterility -”
“Maybe he just wanted to adopt his wife’s daughter. That’s not so outlandish, and it definitely doesn’t require us to assume he’s got Froelich’s.”
“- and,” 13 continued once Taub was done, “it delays bone fusion.”
“Which he definitely has,” 23 said. The elder Montoya’s bones still retained a great deal of cartilage, giving him the internal physiology of a child or teenager…depending upon which part of the body you looked at. But the bones aren’t from any disease or disorder, 23 knew. Immortality is more about retension than about aquiring.
“…as well causing as a whole host,” Taub replied, “of other changes to the glandular production and physical features - none of which have shown up, in the patient or in any of his test results.”
“So when,” Kutner asked, “is Froelich’s not Froelich’s?”
13, Taub, and 23 stopped and looked at him.
“What?” Kutner asked.
“Are you trying to get yourself nicknamed House Jr?” Taub asked.
“No.”
“Then maybe a bit more caution before you use his lines.”
“Absolutely,” House said, showing up. “But even though he’s no relation, he’s got a point. So, what’s the answer?”
Of every answer they raised, House shot it down. It seemed that Montoya’s affliction matched nothing in the medical corpus. 23 was tempted to suggest they let him go.
“Nothing?” House asked after the suggestions and theories were done. “ ‘s this a bad time to mention a new feature to diagnose?
“Not at all,” 23 said. “It’ll hopefully resolve the issue.”
“Doubt it. Patient’s exhibiting the return of old scars,” as well as a refusal to talk about it, “on his face.”
“Sounds like a Vitamin C deficiency,” 13 said. “Did you check for -?”
“Other evidence of a C deficiency? Hm, what a great idea; I wonder why I never thought of doing that.” Tossing his cane up in a spin, it caught it with ease. “Oh wait, I did.”
.-----------------------------.
An hour later:
After a particularly stubborn discussion (or argument) from which House learned exactly nothing, “I must see my daughter,” Rafael Montoya said, the scar at present scarcely visible on his cheek. It’d been much more pronounced earlier.
“Not so fast, kemosabe,” House told him.
“Look, doc,” Rafael said - he was no Luis Montoya, not given to saying ‘senor’ even dismissively - “if I am dying, then let this be my last act - I’ll sign a wavier if you wish it - have one of your underlings fetch it as we progress to where you are keeping her. If I am on a road to recovery, then such a visit can only buoy my flagging self.”
“Well, since you put it that way…” intending to refuse again.
“Let me go see her,” using the Voice, the commanding and controlling tone.
“Okay,” House said, and they were off, heading for the hospital room where lay the younger Montoya.
When they were in the right corridor, only a few doors away, Rafael saw - I see Cassandra fleeing from the room!
“Hey!” House shouted as Rafael shoved him aside - House clattering against the wall - and gave chase. Luis and Kronos spurred the adrenal glands to greater productivity, making him still faster. Immortals utilized anaerobic compounds like lactic acid much better than mortals did, so his legs didn’t ache for a long while.
Cassandra! Kronos cursed.
Worse, far worse, than La Reina! Luis agreed.
Fast as Rafael was, Cassandra was appearantly faster. The blare of alarms told that she’d gone out an Emergency Exit; but beyond that…
They - Luis, Rafael, Kronos - returned to his daughter’s hospital room. One of the doctors was already there. “Who are you?” they demanded.
It was midday in Santa Elena. Grisham and La Reina and their supporters - partisans, Rafael thought - were here, as were the elite soldiers of Cambysyus, Alexius, Augustus, Basil, and Ay.
“I must say,” Luis said, “there are worrying inconsistencies, regarding what just took place.”
Visible now, Kronos nodded. “Quite right, Brother. Why would Rafael deny us the use of the eyes and ears of this body we share - why unless his intent was to deceive us!”
Luis nodded. “Much as it normally pains me to agree with my learned colleague, Rafael, at this time I am not pained.”
“Are you accusing me,” Rafael asked, “if I killed our joint daughter?”
Grinning broadly, “We said no such thing,” Kronos pointed out.
“But,” Luis said, “it does serve to explain much. Who else, after all, would we be so quick to believe would do such a murder?”
“The penalty for which, is your death. One less mindset will not be missed.” For another would develop in time.
‘Who am I?’ 23 repeated. “I’m trying to save her life.”
She is a traitor. “She is dead,” Rafael said, his mind being torn apart.
“Not yet she’s not,” and hit the button calling for more doctors. “Go. Do what you need to do.” Couldn’t bring herself to say ‘She’ll be fine.’
Luis said a brief prayer in Latin - an invocation? 23 wondered - and Kronos said, “Oh I will!” and departed quickly.
Once Rafael was gone, as destroyed as Melvin, Kronos strode freely out of Princeboro-Plains, already thinking how useful the knowledge of himself as Rafael Montoya would be. Luis had not offered argument against the elder personality reigning for now.
Cassandra would find him eventually, like he’d find Methos. Right now, Kronos’ watcher followed him, forsaking her future as a doctor.
.-----------------------------.
The End.
Author: Keenir
Pairing(s): none.
Character(s):
.- on House - House, 13, 23, Taub, Kutner
.- on Highlander - Kronos, Cassandra, Methos
.- on Queen of Swords - Luis Montoya, Grisham, La Reina
Rating: Mature
Disclaimer: I own none of the characters in this fic.
Summary: 23 gets the patient of her dreams…but it turns out he’s not really Methos as she’d thought he was. Will the other doctors discover Immortality when he’s their patient?
Challenge: http://www.allposters.com/-sp/A-Statue-of-Akhenaten-Lost-in-Shadow-Posters_i1008087_.htm spurred this.
(and so did a long-ago comment asking why Luis didn’t have a scar)
Author's notes: Yes, Froelich’s Syndrome really exists - it’s one of the things that some think afflicted the Pharaoh Akhenaten.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
PROLOGUE:
Some stories contain an element of myth. Others seem so unbelievable that the audience refuses to think it could be anything but myth. This is the latter. I know of it’s accuracy and truth because I was there, involved.
This is the tale of my mistake.
I had thought - believed, hoped - that I had found Methos. I’d thought him to be Methos.
You need understand, I was not the first in my family to search for the Oldest Immortal. Know that it was my family who had unearthed the fact that Methos had ever existed. Comprehend that I had pressure from my family and two groups of colleagues.
I made a mistake.
He wasn’t Methos.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
TWO CHRISTMASES AGO:
“Thank you, Gran, I love it!” said the woman who would later be known to Dr House as Candidate 23. The weight of the tome rested heavy on her thighs, but it felt good - a hard-won prize. It may be a Christmas present, but Gran’s gifts were never casual; always there was purpose and deliberateness.
“I’d hoped so,” Gran said, blanket across her lap. This meant as much to her as the book did to 23: 23’d made this herself, bit by bit, every time she had a spare minute amidst all her studies. So good of my friends to bend the rules and approve my giving this to her.
“Its exactly what I’ll do my dissertation on,” 23 vowed. I’m gonna earn every star on the tattoo, and you’ll be so proud. -er. Prouder.
Not everyone who is inducted into the Watchers is brought in because they’d witnessed an Immortal coming back to life. Most were carrying on a family tradition. 23 and her Gran were part of the latter - going back seven generations to Nathaniel Eakes, who had brought his daughter into the Watchers. Eakes himself had been recruited because of his discovery and translation of the Ninevah Texts.
“I know.” The book ‘Starting in Ninevah,’ the reason her own Granma, Patricia Eakes, had started the Watchers’ ongoing and current search for Methos, the focal Immortal of the tome.
. - - - - - - - - - - - .
PRESENT DAY:
“Tell me,” House said to Foreman and the candidate Ducklings, “what’s the differential for a twenty-two-year-old Chinese woman with respiratory distress?”
“She’s got Marfan’s,” 13 said. “Nothing more than shortness of breath brought on by emotional stress.”
“Figures you’d notice the Marfan’s - you don’t want me retaining any air of omniscience when I point it out in reply to a guess.” Looking over the group, “Foreman!”
“Now what?”
“Do you and Cuddy give lessons?”
“Every Tuesday.”
“Never hurts to be prepared,” 23 said. “Besides, 13’s right.”
House gave them a look.
Nobody said or did anything.
“Are the two of you sleeping together?” House asked.
“No!” 23 answered.
“Sorry, didn’t know it was a threesome. So who’s the lucky guy? Foreman?” In response to Foreman’s stony silence, “Oooh, I must be close.”
“I said,” 23 said, “that I agree with her. That’s it.”
“Unless,” 13 said, “your own sex life’s so impaired, Dr House, that you’re left no alternative but mindless speculation about what your underlings get up to.”
“Hey!” holding up his cane. “See this? I’m the cripple here.”
“You think with your leg?”
“Its an improvement,” 23 said, “I suppose.”
“If you three children don’t mind,” Taub said, “we’ve still got two patients.”
House nodded. “Agreed. You and Heartless Bitch, go treat the dad. I’ll go check out the cool patient myself; Kutner can come too, so long as he brings his date.”
“Which one of us?” 13 asked.
House blinked. “Kutner’s the guy in your threesome?”
“Which one of us did you mean by ‘heartless bitch’?”
“Kinda thought it was obvious.”
“Normally, yeah. But not after we both had comebacks to your quips.”
“Ah. I see. Then in that case, 23, you go with Kutner, and you can help Taub with the boring guy.”
“What makes him boring?” Taub asked.
“Wrong question.”
“What if we can prove he’s not boring?” Kutner asked.
“If you can do that, you’re safe. Same for everyone.”
“Just don’t skimp on your patient,” Foreman said, “just to test a theory on him.”
“Yes. Exactly,” House said. “That.”
Once the canidates had all left the room, “I’ll admit I’ve never seen them move so fast.” Aside from during medical emergencies, of course.
“Then,” House replied, “you missed the cafeteria’s Free Ice Cream Day.”
“They’re not children.”
“How do you figure that?”
“If they were,” Foreman pointed out, “they’d steal your cane, flush your pills, kick you in the shins, and run away.”
“Okay, so Wilson’s safe.”
Sighing, Foreman stood up to leave. “I’ll go help them with ‘boring guy.’”
. - - - - - - - - - - - .
“Don’t misunderstand me,” the young patient said to 23, Kutner, and House, “I do appreciate what you’re doing for me.”
“But?” 23 asked.
“But you should be treating my dad, not me.”
“But you’re more interesting,” House said.
She glared at him. “I have Marfans Syndrome, yes. Take a picture, it’ll -”
“Be the last thing I do?”
“No.”
“Last longer?”
“Possibly.”
“Miss Montoya -”
“Are you Doctor House?”
“I deny everything. Unless you’ve heard of my passionate first dates.”
She cracked a smile. “I’ve heard of you.”
“I deny everything. Except for what I do on second dates.”
Ignoring that, “I’ve been told to never let Dr House take my pulse.”
“Why’s that?” Kutner asked, while doing exactly that.
“Because he wouldn’t return it. That’s what I do for a living - or what I’ll do once I complete my postgrad studies.”
“You’re a comedian?” House asked.
“A lexographer.”
“You,” Kutner said, “study words.”
The young Montoya nodded to him. “So nice to meet someone who already knows what it means.”
“Oh get a room,” House muttered.
“I have a room.”
“She’s got a point,” 23 said to House.
“Don’t you start too,” House said.
“How is my father?” Catherine Montoya asked.
“Why?” House asked. “What do you think is wrong with him?”
“Aside from a mild case of multiple personality syndrome that’s been getting worse since my mom died, he’s perfectly healthy.”
“Except you don’t really believe that.”
“She doesn’t?” Kutner asked.
“I do, actually,” Catherine said.
“Then why’d you bring him to the hospital? To make the sick people feel guilty? Hmm, come to think of it, that’s a great idea.”
“I brought him here because he collapsed.”
“Just some concern for a parent,” 23 said to House. “That’s not so strange.”
“I’ll introduce you to my dad.” To Catherine, “Is that it? Just concern?”
“I’m no fan of that tone, doctor,” she warned.
“Tone aside. Hell, I’ll say it plain - why’s your dear old dad look like he’d be your older brother?”
“Because he’s my stepfather.” After making a frustrated sound, “I’m supposed to entrust my and his lives to you, when you can’t even…” balling her fists, and her facial features looking harsh.
“Should’ve let me take your pulse: that would’ve helped. Come along, children.”
“Sorry,” Kutner whispered to her as he followed House out; 23 looked sympathetic.
. - - - - - - - - - - - - .
8 HOURS LATER:
Catherine was waking up, squeezing her eyelids shut before opening them. Sitting there at her bedside was Dr Kutner. “Drew the short straw, did you?”
“I volunteered to stay here and wait so you’d know…”
“Know?” Ex-cuse me?? A large dose of presumption, it seems.
“That your results came back fine,” Kutner said.
“Good.” In that case, “Thank you,” since I was wrong. “And my father?”
“Your father’s name is Rafael, isn’t it?”
“It is. He also answers to Luis.”
“One of his other personalities?”
A man who’s been around more than my dad has, at least… at least since mom’s death.
Kutner’s beeper went off. “Sorry,” he apologized. The beeping was in stereo - he turned around and saw 23 at the door.
“Vamanos,” Catherine said.
Kutner nodded. As he joined 23 in heading for their shared goal - Luis Montoya’s room - he asked her what she was doing when their beepers’d gone off.
“I was about to come in,” 23 said honestly. But I stopped when I heard what she said. Her dad might just be an Immortal. 23’s eyes went wide and her lips pressed together as she picked up the already hurried pace. We really don’t need a quickening in the hospital, hoping it was something else.
When they arrived, they found House and the other canidates keeping an eye on the patient - who was presently brandishing House’s cane at them like a sword, 23 noted with professional interest. “What seems to be the problem?” she couldn’t help but ask.
“13 just lost points,” House said, leaning on the walls, not taking his eyes off Montoya. “Stabilize his white cells, my -”
“Mi Corazon? Where,” Montoya demanded (not shouted), “is she?”
“Fish and Game came by to pick her up. Now gimme back my cane, or the birdie goes bye-bye.”
“Uh, House?” Kutner said.
“Relax,” House told Kutner, “I doubt he’s got a permit for hawk-owning anyway.”
“I do not own her, senor,” Montoya said.
“You did say, and I quote, ‘my hawk’.”
Lowering the cane slightly, “Then you have never been married.” More the fool, him. Ignorant of so simple a nickname that even Grisham could grasp.
“Do you know where you are?” 23 asked.
“This is not the garrison, woman! I am in a hospital.”
“Just asking.”
“I am not senile, senorita,” Luis answered. “I was merely disoriented, and that was only for a moment.”
Taub groaned where he still lay, struck down by the then-disoriented patient.
“That’s good to hear,” 13 said to Montoya. “Now if you can just lie down again, we can -”
“Run more tests?” Montoya asked, thankful Melvin had by now dissolved into fragments of nothing but half-remembered memories; all images without personality lingering in them. Had Melvin still been around, the prospect of any tests, any at all, would’ve been enough to get him killing everyone in the room. “I am civilized,” Luis said to himself, feeling someone waking up from a long silence.
“No doubt you are,” House said. “Then again, aren’t all the bad guys?”
Montoya glared at him while asking 13, “Exactly what manner of test did you have in mind, provided I agree to further needles and leeches?”
“You’re complaining?” Taub asked, 23 and Kutner helping him up.
“Only asking, senor.” And Montoya asked a question that put a startled expressioin on Taub’s face.
“I’ll think about it,” was all Taub said.
“Gracias,” Montoya said, sliding back into bed and not objecting as 13 hooked him back up to the monitoring machines.
As she was doing that, Luis went limp and the readouts on all the machines flatlined, House’s cane clattering to the floor from limp fingers.
Everyone sprang into action; even Taub.
. - - - - - - - - .
As the lot of them - House and canidates - walked through the corridors back to House’s office and the whiteboard, 23 kept hearing what she’d said to the patient once they’d gotten him stabilized: ‘You nearly died on us.’ He’d looked her dead in the eyes, and they both knew she was lying… and she suspected that he now knew that she knew.
“He had no white blood cells,” 13 reminded House. “You yourself agreed with my recommended treatment.”
“Talk to Dr Allison Cameron. Foreman can introduce you.” Turning his attention to Taub, “Speaking of speaking, what’d he say to you that nearly killed him?”
“He asked,” Taub said, “for me to pardon him for his strike.”
“In Hebrew?” House asked on a hunch.
“Yes. Though his accent was…”
“Cultured? Crude? Yokel?”
“Odd.”
“Not an English accent, then?”
“Not remotely,” Taub said.
“He was in China,” Kutner said, “before moving here two years ago with his family.”
“Not Chinese either. I’ve heard that accent at synagogue. This guy didn’t have it.”
“Spanish?” 23 suggested.
“Close to it, yeah. Yet off in a way he couldn’t pin down.
“In any tongue,” House said, “all your heads’re back on the chopping block.”
“I thought you said I was safe,” Taub objected. “You said -”
“I said if anyone could prove the patient’s not boring, you’re safe. But after you had him go from Breath to Death, no dice.”
“Cute,” Taub said. “You come up with that all on your own?” Golem puns, how original.
“Yup.”
“Whoever tried to kill him,” 23 said, “he’s not dead now.”
“Which’ll be,” Kutner said, “good news for his daughter.”
“Ah yes,” House recalled, “the cheerful Buttercup. How is the ol’ gal?”
“She’s glad,” 23 said, “that you seem to’ve forgotten her.”
“Then I should think a return checkup’s just what the doctor ordered.”
“Trade you.”
House looked at her askance. “I’m your boss. I hold in my hands whether or not you ever work again.”
“That didn’t sound like a no,” 13 said cautiously.
“True. Very well, young lady,” he said to 23, “trade places with Taub. Do or don’t, I’m still going to have a chat with the stepdaughter,” and ambled off.
“Great,” Taub said.
“Problem?” 23 asked.
“Nope, no problem. Just wondering if you’re up to handling him.”
“He takes a swing at me, I’ll duck and knock his legs out from under him.”
“And if the patient tries anything?”
Rather than say ‘I thought that that’s who you were referring to,’ 23 said, “I said legs, didn’t I?”
. - - - - - - - - - - .
= In The Mind Of Montoya =
A sharply-scented breeze blew in through the Commandancia in prelude to the shouts of “it’s the Queen!” and their attendant rifle-firings. The afternoon sun played upon the drapes as Luis Montoya sat at his desk, reading over a contract which had been left for him.
“I, Luis R. Montoya,” he read, “being of sound mind… do grant the use of my body to Kronos, who may -” the sound of a ripe melon splatting on the wall just outside his window interrupted. Either La Reina’s aim is improving, or my soldiers’ tactics are growing more dismal. Even so, this was his time. Here was his comfort zone.
“Then sign,” Kronos said, disembodied voice just opposite his place at the desk. “Make it official, Official.”
“No,” Luis replied.
Though he was only a voice here, one could tell Kronos was looking around. “Courting, marrying; those are mistake enough. Yet you compounded your mistake - when you went soft, when you took orders, when you did nothing to quash the stirrings of unrest and revolt.”
Luis’ face was impassive. “Omniscience is a part of neither of our repitiours,” he reminded Kronos. “You yourself suffered setbacks.”
“True,” the older personality conceded. “But your weakness -”
“You exposed vulnerable bits to more than just Cassandra.”
“I suffered no revolts.”
He laughed. “You ruled over nothing! Besides, I was otherwise engaged.”
“Yes. With Lucy. She was the finest,” he conceded.
“On that, we can agree.”
“Though I wonder,” Kronos said, “if you truly found her as satisfying as our Brother found Cassandra - after all, she is not anywhere in this recreation of yours.”
“That,” Luis said, “is because my memories of her are satisfying enough that I need not -” pausing as a volley of musketshot went to and inevitably missed the target, “have a simalcrum of her here.”
He could sense a nod conceding the point. “And your betrayal? What of that?”
“Grisham’s actions were not a surprise.”
“Not his, nor Vera’s change of loyalties.”
“Then whom? Methos’?”
Kronos ignored the familiar jab. “The youth you call ‘child’ and ‘my daughter.’ Who did you think had you brought to a hospital?”
“She was concerned,” Luis said, the words ringing hollow - even the persona Rafael Montoya would have been certain to instruct Lucinda and little Catherine not to entrust him to doctors.
“And now what?” Kronos asked. He would have been amused, even entertained, had it been anyone else in this strait; but Montoya was a part of him literally.
“I shall -” and folded, face an inch from his desktop. “Dios mio,” Luis groaned. “What -?”
“I thought you’d never ask,” Kronos said, taking control.
“Oh no, non you do not...” fighting to retain motor control.
. - - - - - - - - - - .
A while later…
“It’s Froelich’s Syndrome,” 13 said.
“No,” Taub said, “it’s not.”
“Froelich’s causes sterility -”
“Maybe he just wanted to adopt his wife’s daughter. That’s not so outlandish, and it definitely doesn’t require us to assume he’s got Froelich’s.”
“- and,” 13 continued once Taub was done, “it delays bone fusion.”
“Which he definitely has,” 23 said. The elder Montoya’s bones still retained a great deal of cartilage, giving him the internal physiology of a child or teenager…depending upon which part of the body you looked at. But the bones aren’t from any disease or disorder, 23 knew. Immortality is more about retension than about aquiring.
“…as well causing as a whole host,” Taub replied, “of other changes to the glandular production and physical features - none of which have shown up, in the patient or in any of his test results.”
“So when,” Kutner asked, “is Froelich’s not Froelich’s?”
13, Taub, and 23 stopped and looked at him.
“What?” Kutner asked.
“Are you trying to get yourself nicknamed House Jr?” Taub asked.
“No.”
“Then maybe a bit more caution before you use his lines.”
“Absolutely,” House said, showing up. “But even though he’s no relation, he’s got a point. So, what’s the answer?”
Of every answer they raised, House shot it down. It seemed that Montoya’s affliction matched nothing in the medical corpus. 23 was tempted to suggest they let him go.
“Nothing?” House asked after the suggestions and theories were done. “ ‘s this a bad time to mention a new feature to diagnose?
“Not at all,” 23 said. “It’ll hopefully resolve the issue.”
“Doubt it. Patient’s exhibiting the return of old scars,” as well as a refusal to talk about it, “on his face.”
“Sounds like a Vitamin C deficiency,” 13 said. “Did you check for -?”
“Other evidence of a C deficiency? Hm, what a great idea; I wonder why I never thought of doing that.” Tossing his cane up in a spin, it caught it with ease. “Oh wait, I did.”
.-----------------------------.
An hour later:
After a particularly stubborn discussion (or argument) from which House learned exactly nothing, “I must see my daughter,” Rafael Montoya said, the scar at present scarcely visible on his cheek. It’d been much more pronounced earlier.
“Not so fast, kemosabe,” House told him.
“Look, doc,” Rafael said - he was no Luis Montoya, not given to saying ‘senor’ even dismissively - “if I am dying, then let this be my last act - I’ll sign a wavier if you wish it - have one of your underlings fetch it as we progress to where you are keeping her. If I am on a road to recovery, then such a visit can only buoy my flagging self.”
“Well, since you put it that way…” intending to refuse again.
“Let me go see her,” using the Voice, the commanding and controlling tone.
“Okay,” House said, and they were off, heading for the hospital room where lay the younger Montoya.
When they were in the right corridor, only a few doors away, Rafael saw - I see Cassandra fleeing from the room!
“Hey!” House shouted as Rafael shoved him aside - House clattering against the wall - and gave chase. Luis and Kronos spurred the adrenal glands to greater productivity, making him still faster. Immortals utilized anaerobic compounds like lactic acid much better than mortals did, so his legs didn’t ache for a long while.
Cassandra! Kronos cursed.
Worse, far worse, than La Reina! Luis agreed.
Fast as Rafael was, Cassandra was appearantly faster. The blare of alarms told that she’d gone out an Emergency Exit; but beyond that…
They - Luis, Rafael, Kronos - returned to his daughter’s hospital room. One of the doctors was already there. “Who are you?” they demanded.
It was midday in Santa Elena. Grisham and La Reina and their supporters - partisans, Rafael thought - were here, as were the elite soldiers of Cambysyus, Alexius, Augustus, Basil, and Ay.
“I must say,” Luis said, “there are worrying inconsistencies, regarding what just took place.”
Visible now, Kronos nodded. “Quite right, Brother. Why would Rafael deny us the use of the eyes and ears of this body we share - why unless his intent was to deceive us!”
Luis nodded. “Much as it normally pains me to agree with my learned colleague, Rafael, at this time I am not pained.”
“Are you accusing me,” Rafael asked, “if I killed our joint daughter?”
Grinning broadly, “We said no such thing,” Kronos pointed out.
“But,” Luis said, “it does serve to explain much. Who else, after all, would we be so quick to believe would do such a murder?”
“The penalty for which, is your death. One less mindset will not be missed.” For another would develop in time.
‘Who am I?’ 23 repeated. “I’m trying to save her life.”
She is a traitor. “She is dead,” Rafael said, his mind being torn apart.
“Not yet she’s not,” and hit the button calling for more doctors. “Go. Do what you need to do.” Couldn’t bring herself to say ‘She’ll be fine.’
Luis said a brief prayer in Latin - an invocation? 23 wondered - and Kronos said, “Oh I will!” and departed quickly.
Once Rafael was gone, as destroyed as Melvin, Kronos strode freely out of Princeboro-Plains, already thinking how useful the knowledge of himself as Rafael Montoya would be. Luis had not offered argument against the elder personality reigning for now.
Cassandra would find him eventually, like he’d find Methos. Right now, Kronos’ watcher followed him, forsaking her future as a doctor.
.-----------------------------.
The End.